“She’s lying, officer!” Margo said.
“Ma’am, let’s hear her side of the story,” Officer James said, shaking his finger at Margo. “Now, this time, tell me the truth, Becca. What happened?”
“I told you the truth!”
“No, she didn’t!” Margo said.
“I’m not tellin’ you again,” the officer told Margo.
“Margo drove, not me,” Becca said.
“You’re both too drunk to drive.”
“I had two beers.”
“Gee… where have I heard the ‘I only drank two beers’ line before? That’s right every single time.”
“But, it’s true.”
“We can handle this at the station, or”—the officer unzips his pants— “we can handle it here.”
“What kind of police officer are you?”
Officer James zips his pants. “This could have all gone away,” Officer James said as he reaches behind his back, pulling out a pair of handcuffs. “Go ahead and turn around and put your hands behind your back.”
Becca shifted her body, looking at Margo. “Really, Margo? I’m takin’ the fall for this, too?”
Margo extended her arms, pointing to the car. “Let’s go,” she mouthed. “One. Two. Three. Go…”
Becca threw her fist to the cop’s nose. He stumbled back, and she plunged her shin into his balls. Yeah, as in, the nuts. “Fuck you, you rapist.”
“Ahhh,” he said, hurling over then falling to his knees.
“Let’s go,” Margo commanded.
“Why did you tell him you drank beers?”
“I was covering for you.”
“But, dear, you don’t drink.”
“Can’t I be cool for once?”
“You do you,” Margo said, cackling.
Margo turned the key to a roaring engine, and her foot pressed the pedal that fuels the gas as if the world were coming to an end, and she needed to cross a finish line–neither said a word.